Happy Hour

I forgot my phone on purpose today. I noticed the weather was just too damn good to not be outside, to be tied instead to a cell phone or laptop. Like, Like, Like, Love, Wow, Angry, autopilot responses as we scroll through social media feeds that are here today and gone tomorrow. None of it matters, I think. I wanted to simply disconnect.

I grabbed my spiral notebook and a good book, two things I’m practically known for carrying around in Baltimore, so why not equip myself with the same set of survival tools for hanging around Ballard Seattle. You see, I have a problem sometimes of not wanting to wait to see if others around who want to go out and play, of not wanting to ask who’s available and who’s not. I believe, wholeheartedly, in alone time. It fuels my soul.

I wonder first to a new spot I’ve been meaning to try. It received a nice write up in the local paper. Just a couple of blocks away from my apartment, It boasted a menu of vegan faire paired with hand crafted cocktails, local beers and wine. But, as I rounded the corner, I saw that it was closed for happy hour. Well that sucks.

I played smooth operator, not stopping to linger but continued uninterrupted on my trek through the neighborhood. I was not ashamed that I was passing, rather enthusiastically, establishments that were known for rowdy menials getting loose off cheap beer and an array of happy hour bite specials.

I like to hear myself think, thank you. I like to take in my surroundings. I actually don’t need the company, but it’s wonderful to have sometimes.

So I stumbled upon a Spanish tapas place called Ocho, where I scored an outside table since I was on the early side of happy hour (my favorite time of happy hour, fyi). The group of women next to me are talking about men, their outfits, vacations, reunions and books they’ve read. I imagine they’re a group of friends that probably meets up once a week (or month) and picks a new restaurant each time.

I order these fried goat cheese balls that I can only liken to being a delicious gift from the heavens. I use my fork to break through the crumbly crust, and an oozing warm cheese taunts me. I paired this with Ocho’s take on a Dark & Stormy, which included some extra ginger and spice. The reflection of the sun causes my glass to cast circular rainbows on the table. Red, yellow, blue, purple.

A lady bug lands on the back of the gentleman seated at the table in front of mine. I contemplate whether or not to let him know, in an “excuse me sir” kind of way. I imagine using the voice of Oliver Twist, because I tend to pick up foreign accents 2 drinks in. The lady bug continues to explore his new flannel cotton terrain, and I decide to let him be.